


Past Tense

by OurLittleSecretOkay



Series: Jacoffle [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Amnesiac Doug Eiffel, Gay Panic, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurLittleSecretOkay/pseuds/OurLittleSecretOkay
Summary: Post-canon snippet in which being a bastard is proven to be a genetic condition, Jacobi shows off his special talent, and Eiffel is painfully uncool
Relationships: Doug Eiffel/Daniel Jacobi
Series: Jacoffle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633954
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	Past Tense

Eiffel is staring at him again. _Not Eiffel- Douglas,_ Jacobi reminds himself, still somewhat convinced the distinction helps. Douglas stares at him, chin propped against his palms, and Daniel can just barely see him out of his periphery. He purposefully doesn’t turn his head, pretends he’s still involved in whatever’s on his computer screen now, doesn’t want Douglas to know he knows. At least not yet.

It’s the third time this week he’s caught him staring, and while he usually considered such lack of subtly nothing more than bait for a quick remark or snide comment, there’s something about the particular _way_ he does it that puts Daniel on edge. Maybe it’s the ridge between his eyebrows, a crinkle that only ever appeared when Eiffel- the old Eiffel- was about to make his life substantially more complicated. Or maybe it reminds him too much of the face he makes when deconstructing a particularly stubborn detonator- any way, he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like feeling like the problem being studied. So maybe that’s why he ignores it. Or tries to, at least.

Eiff- Douglas sighs, letting one hand fall down onto the table. Daniel is still surprised by movements like at, at how it doesn’t automatically send him up and away. Gravity’s a funny thing; easy to forget. It's strange to think the vast majority of people don’t consider it an irritation, let alone _essential_. But Douglas is still staring at him, arms now propped against the table surface as he rests his chin on the back of his hands. The look is gone, his brow having smoothed back, only the barest signs of permanent worry-lines showing. Daniel wonders how it feels, to carry the remainers of worries you can’t remember.

“You know, I ought to start charging.” Jacobi scrolls his screen to give the impression he’s still reading it. “If you’re going to enjoy the view so much, the least you can do is pitch in to cover the price of maintaining such a fine physique.” Lifting his coffee cup to his lips, he takes a slow drink. Daniel hopes the joke will embarrass Douglas, probably earn a quick apology and a few minutes of peace from that goddamn stare.

“Was I gay?”

Jacobi chokes, feels the acidic burn reach the back of his sinuses. Coughing into his elbow, he looks at Douglas, eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, sure- Girlfriend, child, yada yada-” He waves the words off with a dismissive flick, the way _Eiffel_ would have, and Jacobi can’t decide if that makes the situation more funny or more tragic. “I mean, all that aside, was I- Did I ever say anything, or…?”

“You know,” Jacobi turns back to his screen, hopes the faint green light cancels out the redness of his face, “I’m sure they could do one hell of a study on whether having your mind rewritten can change which team you’re batting for. You’d make good money selling that brain. God knows no one else is using it.”

Doug laughs, but it’s a quick-breath-out laugh, not a real laugh. “Ha ha. I mean it though. I understand we weren’t the best of pals, but, did I- Was there ever-”

“Did you ever tell me you liked them tall, dark, and handsome? Not that I can recall. I had reason to suspect, though.”

Douglas looks almost relieved as Jacobi continues to watch him out of his periphery. He wonders how long this has been weighing on him, wonders what else he doesn’t know. With a sigh, Doug visibly relaxes. “Okay. Thanks.”

The silence that fills the room is uncomfortable, and Jacobi opens a new file just to begin typing gibberish for the sole purpose of filling the quiet.

“So,” Douglas clears his throat uncomfortably. “I don’t suppose you’d happen to know if I- That is, I don’t suppose- Now, when you say suspect-”

“I had an inkling, yeah.” Jacobi summons up all his training, fights to keep his voice even.

“Cool, cool, alright. But, um,” Eiffel- no, Douglas, begins to fiddle with small items on the table, turning and sliding them, organizing the random debris into meaningless piles. “When you say inkling-”

“Oh, you know how it goes; little things here and there. Small hints. The celebrities you liked. Certain phrasings you used. That time you put your penis inside me.”

Douglas makes a sound like a shop vac that’s just been dropped into a pool. “I’m- What?”

“First time made me suspicious. By around the fourth time, I was fairly certain. But who knows? Space gets lonely.”

“No- I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to back up.”

Jacobi does turn to face him then, sighing as he does so. He’s long wondered if this conversation was going to happen, knew that it should, but really, he’d been hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. “I know. An astounding thing.”

“Wait- You- I- You and I-” Douglas holds his two index fingers up, poking them together.

“Well, I see none of your eloquence has been lost,” Jacobi mutters, finger raising his eyebrow as he pressed at his temple. “The short answer is yes, as far as I am aware, you were pretty damn gay.”

“I-” Douglas runs his hand through his hair, staring at Jacobi intently. “What- How-”

“The how is fairly complicated, actually. You certainly score high in creativity,” Jacobi shrugs, still feigning nonchalance, as if it is everyday that one must remind their amnesiac ex-lover of their sexual trysts.

Douglas narrows his eyes, freezing a moment as he stares at Jacobi. “Are you lying to me?”

“What could I _possibly_ gain by lying?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Jacobi sighs, rolling his eyes. “You have a birthmark on your back, right behind your left kidney.”

Pursing his lips in concentration, Douglas stares at Jacobi another moment before untucking his shirt, contorting his body to look at his own back, to where Jacobi knows for a fact a small dark freckle still sits.

“Okay, well, that doesn’t prove anything,” Douglas refixes his shirt, looking less certain in his conviction. “You could have seen that in any sort of situation.”

Quietly, Daniel holds up a hand, pinky and thumb a fixed distance apart.

“That’s not-” Douglas goes quiet as Jacobi cocks an eyebrow, drawing them further apart with a meaningful nod. “Was I at least on top?”

Jacobi rolls his eyes, groaning irritatedly before turning back to his tablet. 

“Daniel!”

“Yes, Doug, you got to be on top.” He shivers involuntarily, still not quite used to the way Douglas always calls him by his first name.

Sitting down, Douglas continues to stare at him, but it's a completely different stare this time. Worse, even.

“What do you want? A medal?” Jacobi snaps, wishes he would stop looking at him. Doug laughs, a quick, triumphant sound.

“I can't believe- You-”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your voice down.” Jacobi waves his words off with irritation. “It wasn't exactly a broadcast fact, if you get my drift.”

“That'd explain why Lovelace hasn't given me hell for it?”

“Bingo, we have a winner,” Jacobi mutters, bristling.

“I just… Wow! I don't know what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect _that_!” Douglas paused, frowning. “Wait, didn't you try to kill me?”

“Nothing personal. Just business.”

“And I still-”

“Not so much after that, no.”

“Okay, at least the guy was less bastard than I thought.” Douglas shook his head as if his hands weren't the same ones that once made the bruised skin of Jacobi's thighs their home. Insides sharp, he keeps typing nonsense, pretending he isn't seething.

“What can I say? Everyone has limits.”

“But you- You came onboard Reneé's ship, threw one hell of a mutiny, and then, what, decided to screw the communications officer just for fun? Maybe there's more to you than I thought.”

“Gee, thanks.” He grit his teeth.

“Don't get me wrong, the story reflects way worse on me, but-”

“What's your point?” There's no missing the bite in his voice now, and Jacobi wishes he'd kept his mouth shut. Still, better hear it from him than Hera, he supposes. All the same, Jacobi wishes Doug would just shut up, thinks it's near blasphemous for that same mouth to be making fun of things it won't remember, can't remember.

“No point, it's just funny, is all.”

“Funny?” Jacobi remembers other times that tongue made him clench his fingers into fists.

“Sure. To think someone like you-”

“Someone like me _what_?” Jacobi turns to face him now, cuttingly protective over whatever it is he has left. Douglas’ eyes widen as his lips pause over some silent word, startled. If he was a little less angry, he would feel embarrassed. After all, he had been the first one to make a joke, hadn't he? Eiffel would have known he was deflecting though. Douglas was still learning.

“Oh- Just, funny that someone like you would, you know, with someone like him. Someone like me, I guess.” Douglas gestures vaguely across himself. “Not many of the things I've heard have been exactly _flattering_ , and, well,” he poses dramatically, index finger cocked under his chin, “I don't suppose I had all these dashing scars to help me out with my _je ne sais quoi_ sexiness at the time.”

Jacobi looks at him, acutely aware of the fact that he's the one staring now. After a beat of silence, in which Douglas doesn't move, Daniel breaks into an amused snort of laughter. Relieved, Douglas smiles as he drops the pose, and it's the same smile Jacobi watched Eiffel give Hera a thousand times over.

“Good lord,” Jacobi massages his eyes, pretends to be more disgusted than he actually is. “You really can't take the insufferable out of the bastard, can you?”

“I suppose not.” Douglas shrugs, puts his hands in his pockets. When Jacobi looks up, he's still smiling at him, but it's a different smile this time, one his pulse reacts to instinctively. Jacobi wonders if Douglas even realises he's doing it. Certainly Eiffel always did. He likes to think that maybe the body remembers, hasn't entirely forgotten old habits, even if Douglas has.

“What's all this about anyway?” Jacobi asks, knowing very much what he would like for it to be about.

“Oh, you know,” Doug tilts his head casually. “I found a little notebook with Cutter's name doodled in hearts.”

“Ah, damn,” Jacobi snaps his fingers in mock disappointment. “That's mine, actually.”

“I thought the handwriting looked off.”

They both chuckle, the sound dissolving into quiet once again.

“But actually,” Douglas clears his throat, studying the wall as he chips at the plaster with a fingernail. “I guess I just figured if anyone would know…”

“It'd be the only other gay man?”

“Something like that.” Ei- Douglas studies his nail, flicking some dust aside. “But also because I was curious.”

“Curious?” Jacobi watches him, intrigued.

“Like you said, it's- Everything about it is a new situation.” Douglas holds his hands out in front of him as he talks, a gesture so familiar Jacobi can't help but smile inwardly. “There's not exactly a model for how this works. As far as I know, as any of us know, I could be a COMPLETELY different person.”

“And you wanted to know if-”

“If enough had changed, or how much had changed-”

“And how much has changed?”

Eiffel stares at his fingertips, rotating a stray paperclip against the tabletop slowly. “That's the other half. I can only guess. It's harder, having never met the guy.”

“So you're getting second opinions.”

“Not exactly. It's kind of fucked up, but to a certain extent, I suppose I don't care?” Douglas looks him in the eyes, fingers faltering a moment. “It's not like anybody thinks of me the same. I'd drive myself nuts, trying to replicate a person I never met. So I'm not trying. That doesn't mean I don't accidently do it, though.”

“So you want to see _what_ changes?”

“Something like that.” Doug nods, watches the paperclip with closer intensity before flicking it away.

“So. What's the verdict?”

“His music taste was mostly garbage.” Douglas shakes his head disbelievingly. “I tried to make it through his music library, but, god. I really hope it was informed by sentimentals or something, because it's pretty much unbearable.”

Jacobi laughs too, smirking. “Well, that is a marked improvement.”

“The things he kept, too. It feels wrong to throw them out, but what the hell am I going to do with them? It feels weird even keeping the same toothbrush! We seem to like most of the same foods, though Minkowski is always surprised to see me not ruin them, if that tells you anything. Apparently he took his coffee black, too.”

“Yeah,” Jacobi nodded, rubbing his face exhaustedly. “Bitter and dark.”

“Same way he took his men, evidently.”

Jacobi catches his eye, and there's a flicker of that smile again.

“And what about you?”

“I'm apparently a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“Right.” Jacobi manages a smirk, looks back to his screen. “I guess tastes do change.”

“Not all of them.”

“No?”

“No.” Douglas looks down, sighs as he rests his elbows against the counter, and Jacobi so badly wants him to say the one thing he won't.

“You know…” Jacobi breathes the air out of his mouth slowly, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair. “I have been informed on at least one occasion that I can be a not-entirely horrible person.”

“Yeah?” There's an amusement in Doug's voice.

“Yes. Some have even gone far enough to call me sweet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It's a fact.”

“That's a shame, then.”

“A shame?”

“For you, at least.”

“Is there-”

“Apparently taste in men is a pretty stable trait.”

“I did say it was only one occasion, right?”

Douglas smiles, and dammit, even if he isn't doing it on purpose, it's that same damn smile, the one that makes Jacobi's jaw tense and everything about him focus exclusively on the task of getting his clothes off as quickly as possible. But Doug is still standing behind the table, and Jacobi is still sitting in his chair, and goddamnit, what more invitation does a guy have to give? He doesn't want to have to be the first to do everything. But Doug is still smiling at him, and so Jacobi swallows his pride, powers down his tablet.

Douglas is still watching him as he stands up, saunters over to him in a way he hopes is convincingly cool. Hands in his pockets, Jacobi stops in front of Doug, the two men simply staring at one another. It isn't the same Doug, it isn't Eiffel, but his face is the same and, doesn't that make this wrong? Not that a little bit of grey morality didn't add something special to the punch, but is it… okay? It wasn't like their relationship was ever anything more than convenience, and this is mightily convenient, so why wouldn't it-

And then Douglas is kissing him, hand on the back of Daniel’s neck, lips pursed much too tight to be comfortable. Obviously he feels the same way, arms locked in place even as Jacobi brings a faltering hand to his waist. And it _is_ Douglas kissing him, nothing but the lips themselves reminiscent of Eiffel, and Jacobi finally and viscerally realizes with surprising clarity that they are _not_ the same person and never will be. But it is Doug, his hands however uncertain, and he wants Daniel, however complicated it might be, and maybe that's okay. It still feels eerily like kissing the twin of your dead ex, but Douglas cups his face between both hands, and Jacobi brings himself back to the fact that this gorgeous man wants him, decides he can be okay with that, if nothing else.

Even with all the differences, his body remembers, sends flushed blood racing to his head. Tugging Douglas forward by the hips, Jacobi makes an effort to relax his own jaw, remembers how much patience it required the first time and decides to feign a collectedness he does not have. Relaxing in turn, Eiffel lets his own jaw soften, lips moving against his.

Doug's hold on him tightens as, chest pressing against Daniel’s, he steps Jacobi backwards against the table’s edge. Jolted but not unhappy with the change, Daniel lets his fingers curl into the untucked fabric of Doug's shirt, pulling him closer. Doug tilts Jacobi's face up, lips finding their place as he steps into the closeness, pressing his leg between Daniel's. The gesture satiates at least half of his more recent fantasies, leaving him positively starved.

“This is a bad idea, right?” he mutters into Eiffel's mouth.

“Oh absolutely,” Doug nods, continuing to kiss him. Taking the opportunity to open his mouth, Doug catches Jacobi’s lip between his teeth, pulls on it as he bends Jacobi forward, taut against him. His hands positively ache to reach up beneath Doug’s shirt, to pull it off with a practiced irreverence, but that was a different game, different rules. Now, he waits.

When Daniel groans, Eiffel takes in a sharp breath, fingers tight in his hair. He doesn’t remember, but he does, in a way. His body remembers, the same way it remembered to ache until he had that first cigarette, teaching him what it needs through process of elimination. And what he needs right now is to listen to Daniel moan again, learn all over how to make him feel good. Evidently he was alright enough at it, if history is to be believed. But he wants to be better. In everything there is to be done, he wants to do it better.

Doug pushes his thigh forward, relishes Daniel’s groan, a hitch of breath as he tugs on his lower lip. He can feel the tension in Daniel's grasp, not to mention the very welcome feeling of his stiffening hard-on, almost comically easy to coax up. And as badly as Eiffel wants to rush it, to get to the part where he and Daniel both get to feel _very_ good, he doesn’t want to lose this moment, this buildup. Approaching his own arousal with all the curiosity of a scientist, he rolls his hips again, draws in a tight breath at the teetering satisfaction. He wants more, _god_ he wants more, and he intends to find out every way to get it.

Gasping against his lips, Doug arches his back, moaning unabashedly into Jacobi’s mouth. The sound is entirely unfair, straining every violin string inside him as Jacobi realizes with painful clarity just how hard he is right now. He can feel Doug’s erection through his pants, wonders if he’ll still like all Jacobi’s tricks, realizing with a certain satisfaction that he’ll be able to reuse every play in his book. There were advantages to an amnesiac boyfriend, Jacobi thinks before chiding himself. _Not his amnesiac, not his boyfriend._ He barely has time to get the thought through his head before Doug chases the rest of them out, sliding his tongue against Jacobi’s lips. And then he is moaning again, the sound breathy and so much louder than he expected. Opening his mouth, he all but dares Jacobi to try and keep his tongue to himself, his groans simultaneously desperate and infuriatingly self-satisfied. With a hissing breath, Jacobi presses his tongue deep inside Eiffel’s mouth, delighted when his nails dig into the back of his neck in response. Hands circling behind Doug’s back, Jacobi wishes again that he could do away with the shirt, leave some bruises of his own. He pictures how nice Douglas would look with a purple collarbone to complement that smug expression he’s no doubt still wearing. Reaching down, he grabs ahold of Doug’s ass, snaps him forward so that he is bowed beneath him, kept upright by their embrace alone.

Eiffel is rheeling, trying to match pressure with pressure as he stretches his jaw. Daniel certainly doesn’t make any of it easier on him, his face pressed so close Doug can feel every breath on his cheek. But god, this is what he wants; more than anything, this is what he wants. Hand sliding down Daniel’s neck, Eiffel enjoys the sensation of his chest beneath his palm, continuing downwards over a firm abdomen until Daniel finally breaks with a gasp, practically shuddering as Eiffel cups his tented pants.

“We’ve got the place to ourselves for a while,” Eiffel begins to kiss along Daniel’s jawline, feeling emboldened.

“Is that so?” Daniel finally manages to grit out, breath heaving as Doug begins to stroke him through the fabric. “You know, you’re a lot more direct than, well... ”

“To be fair, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to think about it.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve wanted to do this since, well,” Doug sighs, pausing in his path down Daniel’s neck as he calculates. “long enough, really.”

“I suppose that’s the downside to such dashing good looks,” Daniel manages through a gasp. “Everyone wants a piece of me.”

“Were you always this cocky?”

“Some would say it’s my best trait.”

“And I still let you suck my dick?”

“Excuse me,” Jacobi frowns, holding a finger up. “You sucked my dick _first_ , from what I recall.”

“Did I?” Eiffel tilts an eyebrow.

“As a matter of fact, you did.” There’s no denying the smugness in Daniel’s voice.

“So does that make this time your turn?”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Daniel smirks, unbearably stuck up himself. “Are you sure you want to be ruined forever?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, I happen to have mastered the craft.”

“And?”

“And, everyone after is sure to be a disappointment. You’ve been given a gift, Doug. You sure you’re ready to squander the ability to not realize when you’re having mediocre sex?”

“Oh god. Were you like this the whole time?”

“Hey, I’m just saying. Don’t overlook the opportunity, because I happen to have practiced quite a lot,” he pointed at Eiffel’s crotch, “so I’m virtually guaranteed to blow your mind. Among other things.” 

“You’re really insufferable, aren’t you?”

“And I’m cute.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

“If I’m cute?”

“If you’re as good as you say.”

“Douglas. Of course I’m as good as I say.”

“Are you sure? I’m hearing a lot of talk.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his mouth shut more than five seconds at a time.”

“That’s unfair and you know it.”

“You’re stalling.”

“ _You’re_ stalling!”

“But for real,” Daniel’s voice drops all humor. “You _are_ stalling. If you’ve changed your mind-”

“You wish,” Eiffel interjects, mentally kicking himself as he realizes that makes less than no sense. Daniel cocks an eyebrow, watching him in patient silence. Sighing, Eiffel tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as he takes a slow breath. “Okay, fine. It’s fine. Just- Maybe don’t set the expectations too high, alright? I get that you’ve had plenty of time, practice, _whatever_ , but- Maybe we just don’t make any assumptions, okay?”

“Oh,” Jacobi pauses. “Okay.”

It’d be a lie to say he hadn’t spent agonizing hours trying to find the pattern for what Doug did and didn’t remember, but most rote things- He’d just expected the information to be there. Was… Dear lord, was he going to have to give Douglas the sex talk?

“I-” He stumbled over his thoughts, trying to gather them in the most tactful way possible. “Do you… Do you know… how it all… _works_?”

“Works?”

“The…” Faced with the ridiculousness of his entire existence, Jacobi gestures towards Doug’s erection with a whistle.

“I know about sex, Daniel.”

“ _Do_ you though?”

“In a clinical sense.” Despite the confidence in his answer, Jacobi can’t help but give Doug a look of doubt. “I know where everything goes, okay? Geez, I’m not an idiot.”

“But you're, for all intents and purposes… a virgin?”

“Oh, don't say it like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like _that_!” Doug screwed his face up. “I still have a kid, in case you forgot!”

“But you-”

“Just because I don't _remember_ making her doesn't mean she _disappeared_!”

“Right.” Jacobi pursed his lips again. “But, so, basically, I- _Do_ I get the honor of giving you your second first blowjob? Or have you…”

“While I'm thankful for the overwhelming confidence in my utter irresistibility, no, I did _not_ make getting laid the top of my post-trauma priorities.” Jacobi is glad to learn that sarcasm is apparently also an innate quality.

“Talk about a to-do list,” Jacobi mutters before being playfully smacked upside the head. “Okay, okay! So, no assumptions.”

“That’d be helpful.” Doug nods.

“Alright. So… Care to continue?” Tilting his head, he tugged Doug's hips forward questioningly.

With a groan, Doug smirked, bringing his lips back to the crook of Jacobi's neck. “More than welcome.”

“Thank god. I don’t know if my pride’d ever recover being turned down by Douglas Eiffel.” He cranes his neck as he speaks, smiling softly.

“By any chance, did this all start as a ploy to shut you up?”

“Bold of you to assume it didn’t start as a ploy to shut _you_ up.”

“I’m not the one cockblocking myself.”

“And by that I meant,” turning an invisible key at the corner of his mouth, Jacobi flicked it away. Trailing his lips down the side of his throat, Doug untucks Jacobi’s shirt, running his hands up against his hips, letting his fingertips rest against the bare skin of his waist. Shivering, Jacobi collects Eiffel’s face in his hands, kissing him again, letting the moan building in his throat melt into Doug’s mouth. Breathing the sound in with a slow sigh, Doug ran his thumbs over the bones at Jacobi’s waist, stroking the bare skin gently, letting his fingertips tease the sensitive patch. As Doug flattens his palms, running his hands up Jacobi’s abdomen towards his chest, it’s all Daniel could do not to lose his footing entirely. Instead, he pulls Doug towards him with a more desperate strength, as if they really were running out of time. Fingers tracing to Jacobi’s back, Doug brings his hands down the bare skin, holding Jacobi by the hips as he bucks against him, though Daniel can’t tell whether it’s voluntary or not.

Lips parting in a gasp, he groans in frustration, pushing back against Eiffel unsteadily. Even if his knees are shaking, he’d sooner _die_ than lose. Grasping the bottom of the shirt, Doug begins to pull it up, and Jacobi has to stop himself from making a joke that Douglas won’t understand. Ever cooperative, he lifts his hands up long enough to detangle himself, quickly attempting to reconvene the kiss. Leaning back, Doug evades him, giving Jacobi’s body a steady once-over and slow whistle.

“Ah ah- give me a moment.” Arms locked, Doug holds Jacobi back by the waist, continuing to look him over before finally pursing his lips, nodding approvingly. “Alright, I suppose that’s good news.”

“What is?” Jacobi doesn’t like feeling _studied_ , and this is _certainly_ that.

“I have good taste.”

“Oh, what? My pretty face wasn’t proof enough?” Jacobi snarks, wishing Douglas would finish up already.

“Hey- You forget, this is all brand new information for me.” Looking Jacobi over appreciatively, Doug lightly traces a jagged scar. “Just because you had a head start doesn’t mean you get to keep the advantage.”

“I’ll give _you_ head to start,” Jacobi mutters, pulling Doug’s face back towards his.

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Besides,” Jacobi ignores him, “if you like what you see now, just wait for the exclusive back-stage pass.”

“Can’t be all that exclusive, from what I’ve heard.”

Jacobi is about to rebut with another excellent barb when Douglas begins kissing him again. His tongue pushes easily past Jacobi's teeth, and it's more or less bliss.

Eiffel feels a pang of what he can only describe as jealousy, although over what he isn't entirely sure. That could be a problem for later; right now, he has a beautiful man trapped between the table and his body, and he is going to use the opportunity for all it’s worth. Dragging his fingers up and down Daniel's body, he traces the lean muscles, following the curves of his skin and making careful note of what got the best reactions. Once or twice he comes unbearably close to making fun of him, smirking at the way Daniel positively _whines_ when worked you enough. He doesn't know if he even realized he's doing it, the sound quickly stifled under Eiffel's tongue. Leaning his weight back against the table edge, Daniel continues to hold Doug's face to his, wandering hand slinking his fingers through Eiffel's belt loops. With a moan, Eiffel pushes as close as he can manage, Daniel shifting his weight eagerly to accommodate the change.

“Can I-”

“Took you long enough,” Eiffel muffles the question with a kiss, shivering as Jacobi lets go of him to pull his shirt up and over his head.

“Oh, you are _so_ lucky you're attractive.”

“The scars help, don't they?”

“I suppose, if you're into that.” Daniel slowly brings his hands up Doug's sides, leaning back to look him over with an appreciative gaze. “Guess it's a good thing I am.”

Doug kisses him again, feels the static shock of skin touching skin as Daniel bends against him, groaning low in his throat. The sound does nothing to relieve the excruciating tension, but it's not often he gets to feel like he's truly where he belongs, so he continues to prolong it.

Dragging a hand up Daniel's thigh, bent from the way he's perched against the table, Doug slides his palm slowly, letting his fingers drag along behind. When he finally cups Daniel's erection again, the man groans, muscles twitching as he very obviously fights the urge to buck up against him. Doug wonders what that's all about. Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against Daniel's, feels the way his strained breath spreads hot against his lips. Slowly, Eiffel leans in again, presses his tongue to the juncture of Daniel's throat, relishing the groan he receives in reply. Steadily, he rubs Daniel through the fabric, wants to listen just a little while longer to the gorgeous sounds he can make.

It takes every ounce of Jacobi's will not to drop back dead against the table. Doug wasn't supposed to remember any of this, so why was he so _good_ at it? Honestly, he'd been looking forward to the chance to lord his experience over him, tease Douglas just a little longer about his inevitable cluelessness. That didn't work if he was a natural. Maybe sex was like writing; just because the man didn't remember learning how to do it didn't mean he _couldn't_. Steadily, Doug continues to stroke his cock, talented mouth no doubt leaving a very prominent bruise on his neck. Jacobi didn't care; he could worry about that later. Right now he just wants to fall apart underneath Eiffel's tongue. He couldn't let him get too happy with himself though; lord knows he'd never live it down.

Hips bucking upwards, he gasps, turning the sound into a more masculine groan as quickly as he can. Pulling off Jacobi's neck, Doug begins to nip at the skin along his collarbone with his teeth, leech that he is. Daniel closes his eyes, craning his neck into the memory of Eiffel using the back of his shoulder to stifle his groan. Apparently he was always a biter.

With a moan, Eiffel slides his tongue against Jacobi's jugular, fingers fumbling as he begins to unbutton his pants. More than happy to help, Jacobi tugs the waist down and over his hips, sighing in relief as he does so. Just as smoothly, Doug takes him into his hand, gingerly groping him through the cotton.

“So,” Doug starts, low voice still betraying his inherent awkwardness. “What are the odds of me acquiring lube without having to put my clothes back on?”

“I'd say rather high. At least eighty percent.”

“Yeah?”

“Table beside my bed, top drawer.”

“But that's so far away,” Doug groans. 

“You're not putting anything inside me without it, so take your pick.”

“Fine,” Doug grumbles, stomach pressing against Jacobi's still extremely present erection as he kisses him.

Daniel doesn't waste time redressing, barely through the door before tossing his shirt and pants onto the floor of his room, shoes forgotten along the way. Eiffel steps out of his own shoes, suddenly feeling awkward to still be wearing them. With a practiced agility, Daniel snaps open the top drawer, tossing a bottle over his shoulder that Eiffel just barely catches. The plastic is a translucent blue, and for some reason the sight of it makes all of Eiffel's nerves catch up to him at once. But then Daniel is kissing him again, and he swallows the fear down. It's just sex; how hard can it be?

Daniel walks him backwards toward the bed, pushing Doug back with a not-entirely rough shove that nevertheless knocks his knees out beneath him. Moving Doug's hands back onto his waist, Daniel tilts Eiffel's face up towards his, pushing his tongue back into his mouth. And just like that, the fear becomes anticipation again, his arousal demanding Daniel Jacobi's immediate and undivided attention. Luckily for him, they seem to be in agreement on the matter. Looping his thumbs beneath the elastic waist of Daniel's boxers, Eiffel snaps the band, smirking when Daniel winces.

“Anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?” He mutters before kissing Eiffel again.

“Beats me,” Eiffel shrugs. “I'm just curious to find out what's on the menu, pretty boy.”

“I hate you so much,” Daniel grumbles, but he doesn't pull away.

“Pretty Boy Jacobi, resident twink.”

“Wait-” Daniel pulls back, brow furrowed in exasperation, “Are you telling me that out of _all_ the information your dumbass held on to, the word _twink_ and need to call me one is what made the cut?”

Enthralled grin spreading across his face, Eiffel continues to toy with Daniel's waist excitedly. “No, I came across it during my-” pausing, he tilts his head back and forth with a hum, “Research. That's funny though.”

“It absolutely is not,” Daniel shakes his head emphatically.

“I think it's hilarious.”

“That's just wrong. Wrong, on so many levels!”

“We'll see.” Eiffel kisses the disgruntled Jacobi's abdomen, still smirking.

“You'll regret that,” Daniel grumbles, the words muffled.

Instead of responding, Eiffel circles a hand around Daniel's waist, fingers digging into his ass as he pulls him forward. With a gasp, Daniel moans, breath going sharp as Doug begins palming him through his boxers. Slowly, carefully, he lets his hand drag along his length, properly torturing him before dipping his fingers back into the elastic, tugging the waist over and down. Pausing a moment, Doug tilts his head, humming a contemplative note.

“Doug, you have exactly two seconds before I start freaking out.”

“Hey, first dick that isn't mine!” Douglas shrugs in mock surrender. “Give a guy a break, sheesh!”

“You don't have to be a creep about it.”

“Unfortunately for you, I think I do.”

“Alright. So?” Daniel looks at him meaningfully as Doug stares back blankly.

“So?”

“Is the verdict in?” He gestures towards his dick.

“Oh, right- Verdict's in, jury's decided you're worth putting up with so long as your dick tags along. _Talk about a package deal_ ,” he adds the last part under his breath.

“Thank you, I am well aware of my finer features. Hey, want to see another talent of mine?”

Eiffel watches Daniel suspiciously before nodding. He wants to point out that having a dick isn't exactly a talent, but before he can even speak, Daniel is dropping to his knees in front of him. Eiffel swallows, fingers stiff in the blankets as Daniel furrows his brow, deeply invested in getting his pants open. Still quiet, Eiffel bites his tongue, flushes at the warm feeling of Daniel unzipping his fly, watches him loop his fingers into his pockets, tugging his pants down over his knees and onto the floor.

Apparently Douglas is a boxer-briefs man, Jacobi notes with mild curiosity. Interesting.

Looking his hands under and around Doug's thighs, he tugs him forward, fingers dimpling the skin. It's so weird to see them unbruised, new scars scratched into the surface. Jacobi leans in, nipping the sensitive inner skin, just the way Doug likes. With a hiss, Eiffel's hand shoots into his hair, hips rolling upwards in a reflexive motion. Jacobi smirks, sucks a bruise onto the spot as a souvenir.

Fingers tucked into the elastic of his waistband, Jacobi pulls them up and over, enjoying the sharp breath Doug gives in response. He doesn't look up yet, still dragging his nails against the backs of Doug's legs as he pulls them down, notes he's still wearing his socks. Adorable.

He can feel the muscles tense under his hands, doesn't have to look up to know Douglas has gone fidgety. He wonders- Yes. The expression is the same, eyes large as Douglas tries very hard not to look like a man who's panicking. Keeping his own excitement to a low simmer, Jacobi takes his time, knows Eiffel does his best work when he feels he's in his element. Trailing his hands up Doug's thighs, he presses his thumb to the juncture of his hips, tries not to chuckle when Douglas gasps as he touches him. With an unapologetic thrill, Jacobi prepares to re-impress Doug with his lack of gag reflex. 

He isn't sure if he was actually holding his breath or if it just feels like it, but in either case Doug can't help the gasping moan he lets out when Daniel takes him into his mouth. Hands again laced beneath his thighs, Daniel bobs his head down, groaning an artificially porn-star-esque sound as he does so. Eiffel gets the idea that Daniel likes attention. Fingers gripped tight in his hair, he tries to even his breath, holding it in his lungs before letting it out shakily. Granted, he doesn't have much to base it off of, but he gets the impression that he is on the receiving end of what would be considered a spectacular blowjob.

“Shit- Daniel- Ah, fuck-” he grits the words out with considerable effort, exactly the same way he imagined during the past few weeks’ showers. Daniel digs his nails into his legs, brings his head down, swallowing around him. Gasping, Eiffel bucks into his mouth, quickly apologizing as he does so.

“Didn't mean- You-” He groans as Daniel covers the hand still fisted in his hair with his own, forces his own head down on Eiffel's behalf. Head swimming, Doug takes the note, tentatively relaxing just enough to let himself thrust down Daniel's throat. Daniel moans, again a clearly performed sound, but that does nothing to dissuade the static in Eiffel's head. Hips rolling forward, Eiffel grits his jaw, groaning a low, desperate sound as he fucks Daniel's mouth. He isn't sure how long it is before he pulls off with a wet popping sound, but Jacobi laughs when Eiffel reflexively tries to pull him back down. Climbing up, Jacobi wipes the spit from the corners of his mouth, crawls onto Eiffel's lap as he begins to suck on his neck. Grabbing Daniel's face between his hands, Doug forces him into a kiss, interests beginning and ending with ravishing this man.

“Don't get too comfy,” Jacobi grabs the lube from where it lays forgotten on the bedspread. Eiffel is just about to ask how exactly it's all supposed to go down when Daniel clicks the lid open, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. He rubs his fingers together (“warming it up,” he explains to Eiffel's stare), and then he is reaching down, stroking his erection once more.

Douglas gasps, fingers digging into Jacobi's legs with a moan. Smiling, ego more than a bit satiated, Jacobi continues to put on a good show. It's not everyday one gets their virginity back, after all.

He slows the glide of his hand, makes sure Eiffel is looking at him before he speaks.

“You're not about to get carried away, right?” he flicks an eyebrow reprimandingly.

“What?” Doug furrows his brow.

“Great power, great responsibility. That's one hell of a piece you're packing.”

“From what you've said, it wasn't a problem before.”

“Before you knew what you were doing. This is a whole new situation.”

“Hey, I'm not the one who came running for more. You get what you get, and you don't complain.” Doug smirks as he says it, keeping up the joke.

“Hey- I'm doing _you_ a favor here. A little more gratitude wouldn't be out of order.”

“God, you're annoying.” Eiffel chuckles, begins to kiss the sensitive skin of Jacobi's throat. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Doug- I will kill you. And I will succeed this time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Me and my dick are terrified.”

“I'm not above destroying works of art, no matter how spectacular.”

“Then stop complaining and kiss me like a man.” There's a growl in his voice that purrs through his teeth, smile unflinching as he says it.

“I'll show you _man_ ,” Jacobi cups his face in both hands, kissing Douglas as he knocks him backwards onto the bed. Eyes shining bright, Doug watches with a smile as Jacobi sits up, straddling him as he squeezes more lube onto his hand, reaching around himself.

Doug watches as Daniel's eyes close, pure concentration as he works his fingers inside himself. There's a rumble of contentment in his throat, head tilting ever so slightly at the feeling. Eiffel continues to unabashedly stare, studying every twitch of Jacobi's face, every flicker that might give away something of substance.

“Can I?” Eiffel ventures, holding Daniel's gaze as he winks one eye open to look at him. Wordlessly, he hands him the bottle, watching carefully as Eiffel squeezes some lube onto his his fingers, rubbing them together.

Sitting up, he rests his mouth on Jacobi's shoulder, reaching behind him before slowly pressing two fingers inside. Jacobi hisses, back arching.

“Careful- Take it slow, would ya?”

“Sorry,” Doug mutters in apology, removing a fingertip to more steadily work him open. Jacobi moans, a genuine, “can't hold back” moan, and Eiffel kisses his neck, closes his eyes to better take in the rest of his senses.

His hearing's not great, but pressed so close, he can easily hear as well as _feel_ Daniel's reactions, from the vibrations of his groans to the indents of his nails. Enraptured, Eiffel loses himself to it, groaning his own arousal as Daniel gasps, moaning. Reading his body, Eiffel presses a second finger inside, waiting for Daniel's noise of frustrated approval before steadily working him further. He can taste the sweat forming on Daniel's shoulder, pictures taking him in the shower. Small steps- one thing at a time.

“Okay- that-” Jacobi nods, obviously trying to keep the breath from his voice, “that's good, I- Lay down.”

Eiffel does as he's told, hands on Daniel's hips as he watches him reach behind himself again, brow furrowed as he makes a noise that sounds more like a whine than anything else. Legs shaking, Daniel stares down at him with a glossy look, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he lowers himself around Doug.

He knows how this is going to go, so Jacobi purposefully stops only part of the way down. Just as expected, Doug gasps, bucking up into him, and the stretch makes Jacobi glad he thought ahead. Doug's fingers dig into his skin, tugging him downward, and Jacobi relishes in the burn of his thighs as he makes him wait. Slowly, steadily, he lets Eiffel slide inside him, holding onto his growing moan until he finally bottoms out.

Douglas is gasping, breath pulling hard between his teeth as Jacobi takes the lead, lifting himself slowly. Grip still tight, Doug bucks up to meet him, and Jacobi finds himself surprised to feel his weight drop as Doug _allows_ him to resettle. A staggered cry breaks out of his mouth as he arches his back, feels the way gravity and Eiffel's hands work to force him down. Maybe gravity wasn't such a terrible thing after all.

When Doug lifts him again, he's certainly past the point of complaining. Sure, he helps him out, using his legs to provide that extra bit of bounce, but for the most part all he has to do is let himself be fucked. And Douglas fucks _hard_ , none of the trepidation of the past; another nice thing, Jacobi thinks. He watches Doug's half-lidded expression, the grit of his jaw as he drags Jacobi up and down his cock, taking out what is essentially a lifetime of sexual frustration on him. Jacobi lets his head lull, moaning wantonly, as if he were up for the Tony.

“Daniel-” Eiffel pants, a groan in the sound. “Shit- I-” He lets out a hard breath, almost laughing. “No wonder I liked you.”

Jacobi decides not to tell him his newly discovered feelings on gravity, wants Douglas to think it was like this every time. What he _can't_ ignore is the electric jolt that shoots through his nerves every time Doug calls him by his first name. He isn't sure how he feels about it, but it sure as hell feels different. Something to think about later.

He doesn't respond, just rebraces himself to make sure Doug gets one hell of a climax. And he does; nails digging into his skin, Douglas screws his eyes shut, calling Daniel's name as he finishes. Jacobi remembers then why condoms can be nice, curses himself for not thinking sooner. Oh well. The guy deserved a little extra fun.

As Jacobi lays down on the bed, Doug exhaustedly flips himself above him, kissing him again, resetting between his legs. Jacobi snorts, turning his head aside with a smirk as Doug kisses beneath his ear.

“Don't tell me you're a cuddler.”

“To be determined.”

“Jesus, Doug. Can't a guy get a break? I get that you're a teenage boy, but even YOU can't have the sort of stamina-”

“I was talking about you. Sheesh, did I have a thing for morons? Please don't answer that; I don't actually want to know.” Doug kisses the skin of Jacobi's chest, moving down his stomach and abdomen.

“And just what do you-” Jacobi's reply is cut off as Eiffel takes him into his mouth.

Pumping him gently with his hand, Doug runs his tongue along the base. “Any pointers you might have would not be unappreciated.”

“Well that's not an offer you get everyday,” Jacobi mutters, pulling his breath in through his teeth. Doug bobs his head down, clearly trying not to smile as he does so. “Watch the teeth!” Jacobi flinches, corner of his mouth twitching.

“Sorry,” Douglas mumbles, fist pumping him slowly as he slides his tongue along the base.

“Good- That's good, just like that.” Jacobi reaches above his head, grabs two fistfuls of pillow to keep his hands occupied. Doug slides his open mouth over the shaft again, practicing a low moan as he does so, eyes flicking up to watch Jacobi's reaction. It's Eiffel's eyes looking up at him, of course- Eiffel's lips and tongue and throat, and for an instant Jacobi feels a revolting pang of guilt. He pushes it to the corner of his mind where the rest of his guilt resides, snaps the box shut with a determination not to ruin this for himself. Douglas hollows his cheeks, pulling back as he begins to stroke Jacobi with more vigor. Gasping, Jacobi bucks upwards, hand automatically shooting down to grab a fistful of curls. Doug leans into the pressure, closing his eyes with a whine, and Jacobi is glad to realize not everything is so different.

Daniel's fingers tighten in his hair, pulling it, and Doug can't stop himself from gasping at the feeling. Shuddering, he draws his attention back to the dick in his hand, determined to give back at least a portion of his own pleasure. As he mouths the underside, Daniel turns his wrist, tilting Doug's head, pulling him down, and he's powerless to stop the obscene groan he makes at the gesture. Still determined though, he continues to pump him with his fist, tongue rolling over the purpled tip, teasing Daniel before sliding his mouth down again. Grip still steady, Daniel bucks upward, pushing himself into Eiffel's cheek with a staggered moan.

“Alright- Keep going, just like that-'' Daniel goads him, as if he had any intention to stop. He can hear the desperation in his voice, hopes for his own part that he can do well enough to get this intriguing and vaguely concerning man off.

Everything about Daniel is fascinating, from his sharpness to his inability to shut up. For the amount he talks, Eiffel gets the impression he only ever really says a quarter of what he's thinking. Straining, Eiffel pushes himself to go lower, wishes he had Daniel's porn-star abilities. He doesn't, obviously, but Daniel doesn't seem to mind, crying out before a second hand curls into his hair.

Doug tries to help, he really does, but his job becomes considerably easier as Jacobi begins to buck more frantically against him, breath growing more ragged with his urgent pace. Eiffel continues to pump at him, relaxing his jaw as much as he can manage. Pulling off, he attempts to catch his breath, groans as Daniel's grip tries to pull him back downwards.

“Almost, Doug, almost- I'm so close, c'mon c'mon c'mon-” Daniel prattles through his teeth, teetering just on the demanding side of begging. Eiffel lets himself be pulled then, a smugness in his chest as Daniel whines, arching his back against the pressure Doug puts on his hips. No matter how hot he may be, Eiffel doesn't think allowing himself to puke on his dick will exactly enable the mood.

Grip on Daniel's hips tight, Doug holds him down against the mattress, feeling his legs curl against his shoulders as Daniel arches his back, gasping. He keeps a hand in Doug's hair, the other one is now busy tugging at the sheets, as if he has to be bossing _something_ around. When Daniel comes, it's with a sharp cry, the sound warbling into an almost predatory growl, and Eiffel better understands how Doug 1.0 could have set his morals aside for this.

Unsure what to do now, Eiffel waits another second before he pulls back, hand still resting against Daniel's shaft. Listlessly, Daniel grabs a box of tissues off the nightstand, tosses them to Eiffel.

Wiping his mouth, Eiffel smirks. “Guess you really have been lonely, huh?”

“What does that mean?” Daniel mutters, eyes closed.

“Oh, you know.” Eiffel drops the box on Daniel's chest with a thump, earning a winked open eye. “Only one reason guys like you keep a box of tissues beside their bed. No luck finding someone else with standards low enough?”

“How are you so certain I haven't just been crying myself to sleep?” Daniel cocks an eyebrow triumphantly, shutting his eye again.

“No wonder you were so desperate to get me back.” Eiffel stretches out, laying flat on his stomach with a satisfied groan.

“Call it charity work,” Daniel grumbles.

“Oh, I fully plan to. I should get a good write-off too, which will be nice.”

“What can I say?” Daniel pushes his hair back from his forehead with a thoughtful hum. “I really am the gift that keeps giving.”

Chuckling, Eiffel traces a finger over the bouquet of bruises along Daniel's neck. “Bad news- It looks like someone might have marked you up.”

“Oh no,” Daniel mutters, tone flat. “What sort of bastard would do such a devious thing?”

“Not gonna lie, you look pretty beat up.”

“Yeah, well,” Daniel turns to face him, pushing up onto his elbows with a groan, “you should see the other guy.”

Eiffel reflexively reaches up, touching his own neck. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel drags the words out, punctuating them with a whistle.

“That bad?”

“Eh,” he wavers his hand. “I've done better. You can still _mostly_ see skin.”

“I don't suppose turtlenecks are about to come back into fashion?”

“Back? Oh, Doug.” Daniel shakes his head disappointedly.

“Why don't you save yourself some effort next time and just slap a signature on my ass? It'd probably be less subtle.”

“Now there's an idea,” earning a yelp with the pinch he gives Eiffel, Daniel smirks, evidently satisfied with himself. Throwing a quick arm around his shoulder, Doug tugs him down on top of him, pressing a slow kiss beneath his ear.

  
  



End file.
